


Thominewt Week 2015

by LadyJanriel



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: 7 Day Challenge, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anniversary, Date Night, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, pairing week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanriel/pseuds/LadyJanriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Thominewt week on tumblr (November 9 - 15)</p><p>7 Days, 6 themes -- all Thominewt goodness!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Sickfic

**Author's Note:**

> On the first day of thominewt week, the fandom gave to us: one sick ficie.
> 
> Jesus that’s a mouthful XD
> 
> go to [Thominewt Week 2015](http://thominewt-week.tumblr.com/thominewt-week) for more info about this event!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys' are sick but are still determined to go out for their 5th year anniversary.

Getting sick was not on the list of things Thomas needed at the moment. Today was supposed to be special. He and the boys were meant to be celebrating their fifth year anniversary at a beautiful restaurant with a romantic dinner and having a wonderful time. Instead, Thomas was head first into the toilet bowl, hurling his breakfast, last night’s dinner and quite possibly everything he’s ever eaten within the week because it could not be humanly possible to turn up as much as he did.

He could not believe his timing – to be sick again on one of the most important days of his life. Unbelievable! Newt was going to murder him.

He heaved into the bowl for the umpteenth time; hot and sticky from sweat. The muscles in his diaphragm screamed for relief from the abuse they were going through. He withdrew from the porcelain bowl slowly, grimacing from the aftertaste of his bile. It made his nausea worse.

He knelt there in waiting, moaning and groaning at the aches in his body and thinking of all the ways to get over this as soon as possible – and what may have caused it. He felt perfectly fine a day ago. Food poisoning perhaps? He wiped the sweat off his brow and took a wary glance at the mess he made. He was grateful for Newt and Minho’s lengthy work schedules, he didn’t want Newt to kill him again for ruining their gorgeous bathroom. (Not that Thomas actually believed their bathroom was gorgeous, but the blond had spent a lot of time buying products to make it more appealing.)

With a heavy sigh and aching limbs, Thomas shakily rose to his feet and set out in search of Clorox.

 

Minho stumbled into the apartment, his stomach churning in disgust and his body sore, though he wasn’t sure why. Work hadn’t been too labor intensive today. He felt uncomfortably hot, his skin clammy and pale. The thought of him coming down with something crossed his mind, but it only irritated him. Of all the days to get sick, it had to be on their anniversary.

Screw irritated, Minho was livid.

He marched straight to their medicine cabinet in search of Tylenol or Aspirin – anything that could possibly cure him from whatever germ that had invaded his body. The nerve of it, assaulting his immune system today of all days! He poured a couple of pills onto his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

He spun around – and nearly jumped out of his skin at Thomas’ curious gaze.

“Shit, shank! Don’t scare me like that!” He cried. He yanked the younger male into his arms and captured his lips in order to save face. (Vaguely, Minho hoped he wasn’t contagious. Despite his constant jokes about his boyfriends’ getting sick more often than him, Minho didn’t like it when they were down. It worried him too much.)

Thomas pulled away unexpectedly, his cheeks flushed. “You’re hot.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, I mean—“ Thomas rolled his eyes, though Minho saw his lips quirk into an amused smile. He pulled his lover close again. “You feel warm.” Thomas rectified. He held his hands against Minho’s chest, keeping him at a distance. (Minho was not too pleased about it, though he made no comment.)

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He pressed a quick kiss against the brunet’s forehead and frowned.

Thomas felt a little too warm.

“You ready for tonight?” He asked instead. Thomas was just as stubborn as he was, if they were both catching something, he knew there was no way Thomas was going to cancel on their date tonight. He had no doubt they were both going to join Newt at the restaurant even if they were sweating gallons.  
Thomas beamed. “Yeah! Looking forward to it.”

Minho returned his smile. Yeah, no way in hell they were canceling on Newt.

 

Newt sluggishly entered the apartment and slid to the ground with his back pressed against the door. He felt absolutely exhausted; his joints were screaming and his head pounding. He was grateful his throat didn’t feel like sandpaper, otherwise date night would’ve been an absolute bust.

He would’ve felt terrible for disappointing his boyfriends’ if he had to cancel.

With great effort, Newt rose to his feet and shuffled painfully into the living room. He tossed his keys into the small bowl on the coffee table and collapsed face first into the couch. His pained groan was muffled by the fluffy cushions.

Oh bloody hell, let me die in peace. He thought. Maybe cancelling would be a good idea. How did I get sick?

He heard the tale-tell sound of bare feet padding across the floor before he felt someone straddle his waist. Another exhausted groan escaped his lips, the weight bearable but unwelcomed.

“Whoever’s the bloody shank sittin’ on me better move before I toss ‘em over.”

“That’s a terrible greeting.” Thomas commented from above. “Get up Newt, we have reservations at eight.”

“This is a nice scene.” He heard Minho say.

Another groan escaped his lips.

Newt pulled his face away from the pillows and caught Minho in nothing but his pajama boxers. The older male seemed paler than usual, his expression oddly weary. His eyes were dull and his movements slow, like his muscles were heavy with sleep or exhaustion.

A quick awkward glance over his shoulder confirmed that Thomas didn’t look any better than Minho. He seemed a little green around the face, his cheeks oddly shallow.

He frowned worriedly.

“Are you shanks getting sick?”

Minho’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He deflected the question with a laugh.  
“We’ve got reservations to that fancy place on forty-six street at eight, right? The one with the tiny forks for salads?” He snorted sardonically. “How fancy.”

“Minho,” Newt began chidingly. “If you’re sick, we should stay home.”

“No way! We’ve been planning this for months! We can’t just cancel, that place is back up on reservations for like, six months. We’re not cancelling because of a little sickness, Newt. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He frowned. “And neither does Tommy.”

The boy straddling him suddenly tensed. “Hey, hey, don’t drag me into this! I’m—“

“Don’t you bloody dare say you’re fine ‘cuz you’re not! You sound awful, Tommy!” Newt tried his best to give the younger boy a glare, but his position only made it difficult to get a good look at him.

This wasn’t good, his boys were unwell and stupidly stubborn! It warmed his heart that they refused to miss their anniversary because of a little cold, but Newt would rather have his boys enjoy their time together, not sit miserably in a stuffy, fancy, shmancy restaurant for their fifth year celebration. He wasn’t going to let them push their bodies to deal with something they shouldn’t.

“That’s it, you both are sick. I’m cancelling the reservations.”

“What?”

“Come on!”

Newt silenced them both with a weary, yet dangerous glower.

“I don’t want to hear it. We’re sick, exhausted, and barely functional as it is. We’re staying home and eating soup until we get better. End of story!”

The resulting sighs of defeat from his boyfriends’ made Newt feel guilty and relieved. Thomas collapsed into a nearby armchair whilst Minho scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms.

“Fine then,” the older boy mumbled. “But I ain’t eating soup. Order up some pizza while I get a movie going and then I’ll be happy.”

“I’m changing.” Thomas grumbled. Newt watched him cautiously as he sluggishly hauled himself out of the chair and nearly teetered on his way to their room.

Minho seemed to want to help the boy poor stabilize himself, but Thomas stuck out his chin defiantly and gave Minho a challenging, stubborn stare.  
Newt rubbed his forehead heavily.

 

Within minutes, they were huddled together on the couch, Minho in the middle with two slices of pizza; Newt on his right, nursing a cup of tea and Thomas on his left, trying desperately to stay awake. The medicine Newt force fed him seemed to be kicking and Newt watched the boy precariously sway in place.

“Go to bed Thomas,” Minho chuckled. “As cute as it is watching you nod off like that, I don’t want you to fall over and hurt yourself.”

“S’okay,” He slurred, eyes heavy and hazy. His cheeks had taken on a worrying shade of pink in the last ten minutes of them sitting there. Newt hoped the medicine was enough to break whatever fever Thomas had raging in his system, but a quick trip to the doctor’s office was only a phone call away should they need it.

Just when Newt felt like he could relax, Thomas teetered to the right sharply, startling the duo.

“Tommy please!”

“S’okay,” He repeated, seemingly unfazed. He made a feeble attempt at moving, but barely managed to get an inch off the couch before his body seemed to give way and gravity had him crashing against Minho for support. He caught him before he could crash and held him comfortably close. He continued to eat his slice despite Thomas’ presence.

Newt sighed in relief. “Go to sleep Tommy. We’ll be here.”

He was out like a light before Newt could finish, his whole body sagging like dead weight. Minho chuckled at the scene.

Newt curled into Minho’s left side, mindful for the boy’s food and snuggled in close. It wasn’t the anniversary they had planned, but somehow, Newt felt this was ten times better. Cuddling up together, watching a movie and eating food – it wasn’t extravagant, but Newt loved it all the same.


	2. Domestic/Family AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas pictures his boyfriends' like cats and dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Played around with the tenses on this one. Not too sure if I dig it.

Living with his boyfriends taught Thomas some interesting facts about them; particularly their personalities. It astounds him how different they are from each other, almost like cats and dogs. In fact, they were exactly like cats and dogs. If humans were given an animal stereotype to adhere to, Newt would be the stuck-up feline and Minho the loyal-to-the-bone canine. The thought amuses him to no end, and when Newt gives him an inquisitive stare, Thomas shakes his head with a smile.

He pictures them as animals that night, completely with fluffy tails and perked ears.

Minho is the first to wake up that following morning, all bright smiles and shimmering eyes. Thomas imagines a tail wagging incessantly behind him.

“Morning babe,” the older boy grins ecstatically. “Time to get up. I tried to wake up Newt but he’s being stubborn.” He gives the other boy a playful glare.

Thomas is surprised to see Newt still pressed into his side, blond locks splayed over his chest.

The older boy squeezes Thomas tightly, as though silently warning him not to vacant the delicious warmth of their bed.

The pout on Minho’s face is adorable.

“C’mon ya shank! I’m starving!”

Newt sighs stubbornly. “Go feed yourself Min. Tommy’s warm.” He practically purrs into Thomas’ chest, snuggling close.

Thomas bites his lip in the hopes of suppressing the laugh bubbling in his chest.

Minho isn’t so amused. He crawls over them both and hovers just above Newt’s curled frame. A glimmer of mischievousness flashes in his dark eyes.

“Alright shank, you asked for it.” He dives into Newt and peppers him with kisses.

“Minho!” Newt cries. His voices cuts out into a shrike of laughter when Minho’s fingers skitter across his ticklish sides. He squirms in despair and pleads for Minho to stop until he’s red in the face and tears are leaking from his eyes.

Thomas takes the reprieve to escape, but Minho hauls him back into the dark depths of hell and assaults his ides with strategically placed touches. Newt joins him in the attack, leaving the boy breathless with tears and laughter, his muscles are sore from smiling.

“Touch me and I’ll bite you both.” Minho challenges the moment Thomas and Newt share a look. He scurries off the bed before they can attack him. “Now that you’re both up, feed me!”

Thomas sighs.

Newt stretches languidly across the length of his mattress, his soft white tee riding up to show just a small bit of his toned belly. He curls into Thomas again, a devious grin on his face.

“I’ll think about it.”

Minho gaps indignantly.

“I’m coming Min,” Thomas chuckles, much to Newt’s disappointment. “Sorry Newt.”

He leaves Newt to the warm embrace of the mattress and gets ready for the day.

Newt is still in bed by the time Thomas returns for a change of clothes, but the blond seems more presentable than before. He follows Thomas mutely to the dining room and waits with Minho at the table, the latter tapping his foot impatiently against the hardwood flooring.

Thomas makes them bacon and eggs with a little bit of cheddar sprinkled on top and salt and pepper for flavor. Minho happily devours the meal like an over enthused puppy, but Newt dawdles. He picks at his food with a face of mild disappointment and looks to Thomas with silent, questioning eyes.

Thomas hesitates.

“Something wrong?”

Cooking isn’t something he’s good at. He knows enough to get by, but Newt’s the one who generally cooks the food for them. Having the blond eye him the way he did makes Thomas self-conscious. He pokes the bacon on his plate with his fork before gesturing to Newt. “Do you want my bacon? It’s not burned.”

Newt’s impassive face splits into a smile. “Yes please.”

He switches their bacon pieces on command. Just as he’s about to eat his breakfast, Newt’s penetrating gaze is on him again. Thomas smiles softly, though the anxiety still bubbles in his veins. “Yes?”

“I don’t want this bacon. Can I have my old bacon?”

Thomas’ smile falls.

Minho lifts his empty plate hungrily. “Can I have more?”

He resists the urge to slap them both.

He’s nearly half asleep on the couch, bored from the lack of stimulating television, when he sees Newt again. He’s standing by the archway, brown eyes inquisitive as Thomas lounges. Thomas tried coaxing him to join for a cuddle, but like an indecisive feline, Newt stood contemplating his options. He disappears seconds after that, leaving Thomas bummed by his cold behavior.

He’s back five minutes later staring and gnawing on his thumb nail.

Thomas shifts around, leaving enough room for the boy to crawl right in if he wants to. Newt doesn’t move.

Ten minutes later, Minho jumps onto the couch.

“What are we watching?” Hey Newt, ya shank! Why are you lurking at the hallway like a griever?”

Newt scowls.

Minho rests his head against Thomas’ chest, warmed by the boy’s body heat and pleasantly comfortable. Newt joins them seconds later. He carelessly crawls on top of Minho and curls up against his chest. The couch isn’t all that big, but somehow Newt manages to squeeze his tall frame in just enough to keep from falling off. He looks comfortable, from Thomas’ perspective, but he can’t imagine being cramped up like that to be cozy for long.

The image of Newt and Minho in the form of a house cat and dog, all curled up warm against his body, makes Thomas laugh.

Minho strains to get a view of him, but Thomas plants a loving kiss against his head and holds him close.

“I love you shanks.” He murmurs, a tender smile on his lips.

“Love you too Tommy.” Newt purrs.

Minho grins widely. “You make the best bacon, babe.”

Thomas grumbles.


	3. Historical AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is the crowned prince who has a hard time finding the time to spend with his knight boyfriends'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a royalty AU because WHY NOT?! I believe this was written on Halloween so I was pressed for time, hence why it’s short and not very good.
> 
> This is Day 5 of Thominewt week, the fourth day can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4995394/chapters/11976935)

Thomas felt like a little boy again when his birthday came around and all his friends were expected to come. He felt foolish for the childlike excitement, but it wasn’t everyday he got to have lunch with his secret lovers. He purposely overloaded himself with work the last two weeks just to make sure nothing would come up today. It might just have been a date to some, but to Thomas, it was the world. Minho was the Captain of the Knights Guard. The male was busy training the troops and sending them out on watches and Newt, despite being assigned his personal guard, was often busy making sure Thomas was safe from harm rather than enjoying his company.

Being the crowned prince added a level of complication to their relationship.

So Thomas feeling ecstatic about their super-secret picnic at their super-secret hiding spot in the gardens was perfectly warranted. The only thing he needed to do now was get through his brief meeting with Janson.

The man was off again on another long winded speech about his personal opinions of their rivals. Thomas felt like his head was about to explode the longer he sat there listening.

“Now your majesty, I have come up with a solution to our foreigner problem—“

Janson set down a thick tome well-worn at the edges and smelling of parchment onto the table with a dreadful thud.

Thomas flinched.

“If you would please divert your attention here—“

“Janson,” Thomas interjected sharply, his tone surprising the man. (He heard Newt stifle a laugh behind him.) “It’s great you think you found a way to take care of our political issues, but I’m getting tired.” He faked a yawn to make a point. “I really would like to go to sleep sometime today.”

“Yes, of course your majesty.” His adviser snapped the tome shut. He gave the prince a deep bow. “I will come find you once your nap has been completed. Until then, sleep well your majesty.” He quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the old tome on the table as a promise of their continuation.

Thomas grimaced.

 

Minho was already waiting for them in the gardens when they arrived. Still dressed in his armor, the knight looked dashing among the yellow flowers. His face lit up bright at the sight of them, like a child finding an old toy they had lost. The sight made Thomas’ heart swoon.

“What took ya?” He asked. He gave them both a kiss each before sitting down on the blanket.

Newt snorted. “Janson wouldn’t shut up.”

“Since when does he ever?” The knight chuckled.

Thomas nudged them playfully. “Be nice. Mother trusts him. He’s the only one who does any actual work around here.”

“Excuse you, I do plenty of work.”

“As do I,” Newt grinned, ruffling the prince’s hair. “Believe it or not, keeping you out of trouble is the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done. If it weren’t for me, you would be dead three times over, Tommy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sighed, though the smile that’s split his face was genuine.

They sat around in a comfortable silence afterward, munching on their meals and soaking up the tranquility of the private garden. Thomas cherished moments like this. It was so hard to get a moment to himself, let alone a moment where they were all together like this. It shamed him that they could only be together in secret; ached him.

To think one day, he would have to marry…

It made him sick.

“What’s wrong?”

Thomas snapped out of his morose thoughts with a shake of his head.

“Nothing, Min.” He smiled, although it wasn’t as bright as before. “I’m just really happy right now.”

He squeezed their hands in assurance. A part of him never wanted to let go. A moment of understanding flashed in their eyes. They squeezed back.


	4. Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Minho realizes how turned on he gets when his boyfriends' wear his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last theme for Thominewt week was Free day. I didn't write a theme for the soulmate AU because I'm absolutely shitty with soulmate prompts :\
> 
> And kindly remember that [day four](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4995394/chapters/11976935) is actually chapter three of Trials and Tribulations side stories.

There was something erotic about Newt wearing his sports’ jersey. Perhaps it had something to do with the way Newt’s well-toned arms flexed impressively whenever he had to carry something, or maybe it was the way the fabric of the jersey would stretch taut across Newt’s strong torso? Most of Newt’s clothing covered his body in every possible way – he wasn’t a big fan of showing off skin unless he needed to – and him wearing his sports’ jersey often meant Newt would be exposing his arms. It also meant baggy pants. Minho quite liked it when Newt wore baggy pants. The entire ensemble made Newt seem so relaxed and comfortable, like he had absolutely nothing to do but chill and enjoy the scenery. Maybe that’s what turned him on so much? Seeing his boyfriend unwind in the comfort of their own home filled Minho’s chest with warmth. It was such a rare sight.

That or Newt was just unbelievably hot and having him expose his delicious arms was too much for Minho.

He licked his lips at the thought.

“Hey Minho?” Minho turned to the voice and felt his brewing fantasies derail spectacularly.

Thomas stood by the doorway, face pinched in embarrassment, his cheeks red. He was wearing Minho’s old college hoodie, the sweater massive on the brunet’s small frame. The sleeves swallowed his hands, leaving his slender fingers to drum nervously against the door frame. The length of his hoodie stooped just above Thomas’ thighs, and the shorts he wore seemed to disappear underneath that large, thick shirt.

It looked like he wasn’t wearing pants.

Heat pooled into the pit of Minho’s stomach. He couldn’t fight off the Cheshire grin that split across his face.

“Yeah Tommy? You look good in my clothes. You both do.”

Newt, who sat in the armchair with a book in his hands, rolled his eyes at the boy’s antics. Thomas’ pale cheeks turned a shade darker, a pout formed on his lips.

“Yeah, well, I had no other choice. All my clothes are in the wash.” He explained. “Newt’s clothes are too big so…” He shrugged.

“So you grabbed something bigger from my closet?” Minho chuckled. “You’re such a tease.”

Thomas bristled. “No! I didn’t have anything else to wear!”

“You should have gone naked.” Newt tsked.

Minho laughed. “See, this is why I love him.”

“Love you too Min.”

Thomas’ face turned another shade of red. “You two drive me crazy.” He muttered sulkily. “Stop teasing me.”

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, Thomas. How can I not tease you?” Minho snickered. “You and Newt. You both get so red.”

Newt snorted in retaliation. He buried his nose deeper into his book in the hopes of hiding the sudden redness on his cheeks. Minho grinned.

Thomas disappeared around the corner again, having had enough of the Asian male’s teasing. Minho settled into his sandwich, a smug smile still on his face.

God how he loved laundry day. Maybe next time he’ll hide all their clothes so they’re forced to wear his for the rest of the day. The thought turned him on more than he realized.

Yeah, definitely doing that this Friday. He bit into his sandwich, devilishly excited.


End file.
